


Instagram

by Hipsterian



Category: Block B
Genre: Falling In Love, Instagram, M/M, Tattoos, maybe he will end inking Jaehyo's face on Jiho's forehead, taeil is a tattoo artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 23:51:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hipsterian/pseuds/Hipsterian
Summary: Jaehyo is the photographer running Taeil's tattoo parlour Social Media. He takes a picture of one of Taeil's masterpieces that happens to be on Jiho's chest.





	Instagram

**Instagram**

 

The first time he saw him, he was mesmerized.

It was at Taeil’s den, though he likes to call it Tattoo Parlor. He was going to ink him again; he was going to get sketched his own design on his chest. It was his mother’s face. He was smirking while showing it to Taeil, who looked at him with a raised brown.

“I didn’t think of you as a mom’s boy,” he said, sceptic, but he never considered him as a church boy either and yet he inked his forearm with the Veil of Veronica and called it his masterpiece.

“I admire her; she raised me and my brother with so much love despite all the shit we went through. She gives me strength and I want to keep her near my heart always,” it was cheesy and Taeil was about to crack up laughing at him but he was damn serious (he is always serious about his mom). It was then, between Taeil’s showing teeth, that he peeked out from the door (at least Taeil respects the legislation about non-smoking inside a working place and they were outside, the air tasted like strawberries and cigarettes and the ink on Taeil's fingers).

He was awestruck. He was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. It was only a moment, though; too soon he disappeared like bubbles on the sky, flying away.

He has seen him a few more times, all in Taeil’s den, but couldn't get a name, a reason for him to loiter there as if home, smiling like a falling angel, taking Jiho's breath away.

“I should call Jaehyo,” Taeil is nodding, his fingers lingering, cold, over his reddened skin, smoothing the plastic wrap around his body. He looks at is pleased. Jiho has to admit that he did an incredible job, inking his mother’s picture on his chest. “It has healed very well,” he continues, inspects it thoroughly, touching it gently. It doesn’t hurt. It never hurts when Taeil does it (he is the best tattoo artist in town despite the mess that it’s his parlour, he takes great care of his clients and Jiho hasn’t found a reason to complain other than the disorder and the fact that it smells like smoke due to Taeil’s Vape that he carries inside and that Jiho finds it gross and unhygienic). And Jiho likes the buzz, the needle itching his skin, the ink colouring his flesh the way he has dreamt it, the way he has drawn it first.

It all comes alive in Taeil’s hands that work with connoisseur, precisely, meticulously, piercing his flesh with colours that aren't real.

“Who is Jaehyo?” he asks, curious. He is sure that, whoever this person is, it has to be related to his new tattoo that is now seeing the light and graced by the air for the first time, somehow. It can’t be otherwise when Taeil is staring, captivated, at it (and it feels weird to have him glancing at his own mother beating over his exposed heart).

It happens that Jaehyo is the prettiest man Jiho has met (and seen and glanced, the one he has seen before in the parlour) and, also, the one who runs Taeil’s business Instagram account. He is the one behind every picture of Taeil’s tattoos and now he is here to photography Jiho’s (because Taeil’s too proud of them to let him escape). Not that Jiho wants to escape - he wants to combust.

He wants to combust because this handsome man is staring at him with a grin, half his face covered by the heavy camera, but he feels his eyes on him with every click, with every move he makes to angle the picture better, to capture his chest perfectly.

He feels on fire with his heart bouncing faster than his mouth rapping and his mind is flooded with lyrics describing this incredible person who is gently moving around, looking at him as if art or something wonderful.

 

Jiho checks the account to verify it; his tattoo looks wonderful, Jaehyo did a great job editing and retouching and the description of it is poignant (he says something about how everybody should love their mothers). He is emotional about it (about Jaehyo thinking about how much he adores and cares for his own mom to the point to engrave her on his skin).

He isn’t lurking but, somehow, he finds Jaehyo’s personal account.

He is, indeed, a professional photographer; even his selcas are aesthetical, with ethereal lights and backgrounds. And he is always beautiful, he believes, while scrolling down, checking every picture, tempted to save them to print and hang them out on his room (he does it regarding all his qualms, his beauty won over his morals).

 

He is hanging out more with Taeil (he goes to his workshop to show him nothing but random doodles, offering them as new designs for others clients, which raises some suspicious in him since he is giving his work for free).

“Are you waiting to see somebody?” he asks with a peeking, teasing note at the end. He can be annoying. Taeil knows; it happens to be. “You have liked all his photos, of course I know. And you brought two sets of sketches that looked exactly like Jaehyo. I might be dumb, but you aren’t subtle about your crush on him,” he explains, grinning. Viewed like this, yes, Jiho was obvious. So no point on hiding it now.

“He is beautiful,” he states. A whole truth. Taeil’s grin a bit more and nods.

“Single, stupid, a crybaby, good for nothing but taking pictures and fishing,” he explains, a hand on Jiho’s elbow, his chin up to see his eyes. He is flushing. “The type that would date a bad boy who is a secret church-mom-lover kid deep down.”

It is not deep down, Jiho is openly soft and tender, there is nothing edging about him, only too much eyeliner and fierce looks. A character.

“I can tattoo his face on you if you want it. For free,” he smirks, knowingly. The little shit.

Jiho is a fool. He is a fool for Jaehyo hyung (of course he has gone through all the info available; 28, a whole Busan boy). He follows his account and keeps track of what he does, where he goes. It’s creeping but he really is into him. All his posts are nice, well written, well done. He is kind-hearted (he works for Taeil for free, he has been his friend for years, he let him use him as his practice canvas). He loves animals (considering the number of dogs' pictures he owns, and fishes he caught) and he is hard-working, consistent (he spends weekends fishing, waking up at sunrise, staying still in a boat). He has read other’s comments on his Instagram (from his followers that are many and from friends of him who makes Jiho slightly jealous) and everyone said he is good; everybody loves him and the ones sharing experiences working with Jaehyo praise him to the moon and beyond. Jiho does right by liking him (he doesn’t regret all the stanning, all the stalking).

He feels like dying the moment Jaehyo sent him a DM asking if he was the same Jiho he took a picture of. In a heartbeat, he replied to him. Immediately saying him that he was, indeed, the one. Jaehyo writes to him that his tattoos were all beautiful. That he would like to take more pics of them for Tael. If he wants to; if he is in. Obviously, Jiho is totally in, despite the odd sensation trickling his sense and his sweaty fingertips. They chat some more. They exchange private message all night long; it's all good and fun. 

They end up messaging daily, not that Jiho is complaining - he is thrilled, delighted. Jaehyo is exactly as he has imagined him to be (half a nerd, half a dork, a completely sweet boy and Jiho keeps on falling deeper in love). How could he prevent his heart when Jaehyo is so wonderful and gentle and beyond perfection? He wants to hide inside his arms, buried inside his massive jumpers.

It’s been a month and Jiho needs to move forward, needs to do something before his feelings will kill him. He has a folder filled with songs about him and his walls are now decorated with his (stolen) pictures and drawings and he isn’t obsessed, really, but this isn’t healthy either.

Jaehyo texts him and Jiho loses his mind, rushing to reply to him.

He can’t let it drag any further, he needs to confess. Or to stop all the following, all the daydreaming, all the stargazing inside his eyes. - The other day he had a heart attack when Jaehyo told him that he was beautiful; Jiho hasn’t recovered from it yet.

He needs to do something because his life is on a knife-edge, his chest is constricted, in a critical state, flooded with all that Jaehyo has ever said, with all the ways that make him so beautiful. 

Jaehyo is waiting for is for Jiho to agree to model for him, to show him all of his inked skin. He has postponed it, delaying it as much as possible to get his heart used to it, to let the idea sinking into his mind (to stop shaking).

Jiho can’t stop shaking, not when Jaehyo’s gaze is on him, intently, setting fire to the rain. His fingers are on the camera, but Jiho can feel them touching him, on the hem of his shirt, unbuttoning it (he wants him so badly).

“You are really a beauty”, he murmurs, biting his bloodstained lips, clapped (he wants to do it, too; he has kissable lips but he is contented watching him working, talking). Jaehyo does mostly all the chatting, though. He doesn’t mind, he would listen to him all day. He would stay still, naked, letting him take all the photographs in the world of him, capturing all and every angle of his body (he already captured his heart, he can let him have the rest of him if it's what he wants).

Jaehyo wants to. He wants Jiho. He is no longer taking pictures. He has left the camera, taking it off his neck to stare openly at Jiho blush. He is not naked, just shirtless and now he is feeling Jaehyo’s fingers, for real, under his skin.

“You are slow, Woo Jiho,” his lips are so close to his ears, he can hear all the teasing, all the urgency.

He isn’t slow when he kisses him. Not when Jaehyo is so inviting, so tempting, so willing to be kissed.

He kisses him rough, he kisses him with passion, he kisses him until his lips are so waste no lip balm can save them (he tastes blood and flesh but he doesn’t care).

Jiho isn’t slow now telling him how much he likes him. Neither is he slow to tell him how he is tattooed inside his heart.

“Cheesy,” Jaehyo says, pitching his cheeks.

“But you like it,” Jiho doesn’t mind: he is a cheese ball, indeed. He will sing to Jaehyo next time. Because he is sure there will be a next time. He is sure because he is now buried inside Jaehyo’s massive sweater (and it feels warm; like home, better than any Instagram post).


End file.
